Something Beautiful
by SequoiaM
Summary: Irene Adler returns to 221B. Sherlock's life will never be the same again. Rated T for themes and language.
1. Prologue

The Woman- Prologue

She traced patterns on his chest with her fingertips, curled gently against him. It had been a long time since she'd been this gentle with another person. She'd almost forgotten quite how easy and beautiful it could be. Her palm found its resting place over his heart, his steady heartbeat soothing her.

'Sherlock?' Her voice was no more than a whisper.

'Mm?'

'I have to go.'

'I know. Can I know where?' She laughed lightly, weakly, and shook her head. 'Of course I can't.'

He ran a slender hand down her face, placing a delicate kiss on her lips.

'I'm sorry.' Her voice was cracked, she wanted to stay more than he wanted her to stay. She clasped his idle hand in hers.

'How long?'

'Hard to say. No longer than a year.'

He raised their clasped hands between them, and kissed her knuckles.

'I'll hold you to that Miss Adler.' He smirked in his own funny way, and she smiled broadly.

'You'd better.' She pulled herself out of his embrace and began to dress herself. He mirrored her action, and once they were fully clothed, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing her exposed shoulder.

'Don't start that again, I've only just put my clothes back on.'

He chuckled into her neck.

'One for the road?'

She shifted to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips to hers firmly.

'Goodbye Mr Holmes.' He closed his eyes and smiled, exhaling loudly through his nose. And when he opened them, she was gone.

He set his mind to packing, the order made him calm. He enjoyed the quiet that echoed through the room. All was as it was before.

His phone moaned loudly from the bedside table.

_Thanks for the dinner. _


	2. Chapter 1

**This is admittedly quite short chapter, but more, longer chapters will follow. I promise :)**

Something Beautiful- One

It had been three months. Nothing. No communication. And John didn't suspect a thing.

His phone moaned loudly from the kitchen table. John looked up from the paper, looking like a startled rabbit.

'Sherlock...'

He refused to respond, and jumping to his feet, grabbed the phone and opened the much awaited message, not sure whether to feel relieved or worried.

_I know a good place in London, below a friend's flat. Does lovely sandwiches. Let's have dinner. x_

His heart almost jumped out of his chest and across the coffee table. She couldn't be here. It was far too soon.

His breathing slowed, as he desperately tried to regain normality and a regular pulse, but he quickly failed. He sensed John's eyes burning into the side of his skull as he flailed around, running his hands through his hair, but ignored them, hoping he'd leave it be.

'Bloody hell Sherlock, are you alright?'

'Fine. Absolutely fine...Just need to...need to...need to...I'm going out.' He fumbled momentarily around the kitchen, rocking on his heels. 'Won't be long.'

'Are you sure you're okay?'

'I'm FINE!' Sherlock shouted as he flew out of the door and down the stairs at such a pace that he nearly flew head-first into the front door.


	3. Chapter 2

Something Beautiful- Two

She really was quite something, even perched upon a metal cafe chair, with one leg swung over the other and his grey coat draped over her shoulders. Red heels stood out against her pale white skin, and her bright blue eyes scanned the cafe vaguely, as if searching for something she'd missed.

And then her eyes found him, and she smirked, brushing her knuckles under her chin. She raised her eyebrows, motioning to the seat beside her.

There was no greeting, only an intense look shared as he took his seat.

'You came.'

'How could I not?'

'Easily.' She whispered, her voice an almost inaudible hiss. The only thing that prevented him from wincing at her tone was the playful smirk plastered across her deep red lips.

'I take it you're not staying long?' He didn't need to ask, the answer was obvious, but an emotion that felt like hope was bubbling quietly in the back of his mind.

'Am I really that obvious?' She arched one eyebrow and pouted mockingly.

That was it. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He erupted into a fit of laughter, startling an elderly gentleman behind them.

She started to laugh too, and out of the corner of her eye, saw a short man in a woolly jumper pass by the window and enter a taxi.

'Y'know, John just left in a taxi...which means your flat is empty...' Her voice trailed off suggestively, and his heart jumped again.

'Lets go.' He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her seat and up to the door of 221B.

Before opening the black door, he pressed her up against it and she kissed him. It was all he needed to reassure his mind.

'I've missed you Irene.' he said, brushing his hand down the side of her face.

'Shut up and take me upstairs.' She smirked.

* * *

><p>'Cup of tea?'<p>

'Go on then. Make it a Julie Andrews.'

Sherlock stopped mid pour and looked at the woman sprawled on his sofa in confusion.

'A what?'

'A Julie Andrews?' She looked at him patronisingly. 'A white nun?'

'You are ridiculous, Miss Adler.' He smirked at the kettle, and his own reflection smirked gleefully back. He handed her the warm cup and sat in the armchair, cradling his cup thoughtfully.

It was silent for a while. And then she spoke, her tone all too serious.

'Sherlock, I can't stay much longer. I only came to give you something.'

'I see.' He closed his eyes.

'I need you to remember something too, can you do that for me?'

'Of course.'

Her hand touched his, and he felt her slip a piece of paper into his palm. His eyes flew open. Her face was so close to his, it hurt. It was so much harder, every time she said goodbye.

'I'm sorry darling. You'll understand soon. Just please, stay strong.'

She placed a chaste kiss to his forehead, and turned to leave. He clenched her hand.

'You haven't told me what I need to remember.' His voice was quiet, and choked, like he was about to cry.

Her deep inhalation echoed around around the empty flat.

'I love you, Sherlock Holmes.'

She was gone.

He looked at the note in his hand. And the paper read:

_Very soon, you'll need this. But not until the very end._

_212 Longland Avenue, _

_Camden._

_Irene x_


	4. Chapter 3

Something Beautiful- Three

Footfall on the stairs. Not Mrs Hudson. Too loud, judging by the noise they made.

He cursed himself, he was acting like Sherlock, giving himself necessary moments of grief. he couldn't help it. It had been four months. And he was still torturing himself about it.

'John?'

That voice. He knew that voice. That voice came from a person long gone.

'Who's there?'

'You don't remember me Doctor Watson? Am I really that fleeting?'

A dark figure passed through the door, a flash in a thick black coat and grey scarf.

'Shall I make you a cup of tea?'

'What are you doing here?'

'I'll make you a Julie Andrews. You can't complain if its not to your taste, you didn't answer my question.'

'And you didn't answer mine! What the hell are you doing here Irene?' He stood up and looked her straight in the eye. Her face darkened.

'Do not raise your voice at me John Watson. You are not the only person hurting in this room.' She trembled a little, less than half an emotion shining through her tough exterior. He immediately regretted what he had said and how he said it. 'I have come to pay my respects, and to check on you. And if you'll let me continue, I'm making you a cup of tea.'

He sat back down, silently watching her make tea. It surprised him that she knew where everything was kept, and that she didn't sneer at the body parts, but he didn't comment.

As she sat opposite him, her eyes softened, and he smiled a little. She was plumper than he remembered, with a larger form, but she was more careful and precise with her movements.

'You kept his things.' She stated, her voice the softest he had ever heard it.

'I can't bear to throw them away.' Tears pricked the back of his eyes. He held them back.

'I'm sorry I didn't come to the funeral. Well, I did, but I felt my presence would have ruined what was a lovely service.'

'It wouldn't have. I mean, you're the closest thing he would have had to a widow.' She smirked a little at that, crossing one leg over the other. 'I can only begin to imagine what being married to him would be like...'

'I think absolute hell sums it up pretty well.' John laughed a little at that, a weak chuckle. It felt so alien.

'It does indeed...' His eyes widened. 'What? How...?'

She winked and stood. 'Vivid imagination.'

'Irene...'

'Well, John, it's been lovely. Thanks for the tea. Absolutely stellar. I must be off now, but if you ever need a chat...' She leant over and tucked a card under his coaster. 'Ask for Mrs Adlington.'

And that was when he noticed. That was his coat. His scarf. On her. The ones he had died in, and St. Bart's had destroyed.

'I will.' He smiled to himself, as she left 221B. Hope. The poor man's wealth.

* * *

><p>'He suspected?'<p>

She nodded.

'You taught him well darling.'

'Give the phone call a few hours. He'll wait, to make sure he knows what he's going to say.' She nodded again and lay down beside him on the sofa. 'And did he realise...?'

'No. Not at all. Calls himself a doctor.' She laughed, leaning into his shoulder. 'You miss him, don't you?'

'You're getting better at this. Might even give me a run for my money one day.' He curled a slender arm around her, cradling her against his torso.

'Is that a challenge?'

'Absolutely.'


	5. Chapter 4

Something Beautiful- Four

It wasn't the phone ringing that woke him. It was the realisation that she wasn't beside him, her arm draped over his, and it unsettled him.

He stood for a while and watched her fiddling with the phone cord for a while, before entering and kissing her forehead gently.

'I know, I know. Its confusing and upsetting, trust me darling, I understand. I just think you need to sleep, John.'

He mouthed the word 'tea?' to her, and she nodded, mouthing, 'Julie Andrews', as if she expected him not to know.

'Don't be silly. It's important to sleep, even if you're unsure of something.'

He handed her her cup of tea, and wrapped his slender fingers around his mug, letting the warmth run through his hands.

'John Watson, don't you dare take that bloody tone with me! I was not trying to be evasive!'

'Crack that whip.' He muttered under his breath, earning a dirty look and a narrowly missed blow to the head.

'No, everything is fine, just a pest in my kitchen.'

She smiled proudly at her own joke. He rolled his eyes.

'You see John that's where you're wrong. Sherlock does sleep.'

And the game was up. One simple slip of the tongue.

'Oh bloody hell.' His head fell into his hands.

'No, no, I meant did. I sometimes find it so hard to forget he's gone, don't you?'

She sighed and her face visibly fell, as she ran one shaking hand through her hair.

'I'll text you the address. See you in the morning John.'

He stood up and walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

'I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking straight...'

'Its fine. He was going to work it out at some point anyway.'

'He's coming over tomorrow, at about 11.'

'11? We've got an appointment tomorrow Irene...' He stroked her lower arms, caging her in both their arms.

'At 2.30. Don't worry about it. He'll be gone by then. If not, he can come too.'

'He is not coming. Not for this anyway.'

'I'm playing with you Sherlock. Come on. Let's go to bed.'

She began to lead him out of the door, when the phone rang again.

Sherlock grabbed the handset before she had time to stop him.

'For Christ's sake, John, go to bed. I bloody well am, and I'm unplugging the phone. Goodnight.'


	6. Chapter 5

Something Beautiful- Five

John knocked loudly on the door, and Sherlock shot a pained look at his lover.

'Just this once Sherlock Holmes.'

She answered the door and smiled warmly at the ex army doctor on the other side.

'I don't know whether to hug or punch you. I really don't. And as for him...'

'Well, you should never hit a lady, and I'm not much of a hugger. Just come in.'

He shuffled nervously through the door, and looked around carefully.

'Nice place you've got here. Well decorated.'

'Well, one does get quite bored when pretending to be dead, Doctor Watson.' He almost laughed, but it didn't seem appropriate.

She led him through to the living room, where Sherlock was sitting, crosslegged, on the sofa. He stood as they entered.

'John, I...'

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. John's fist hit him square in the cheek.

Irene sighed and shook her head.

'I'll get a damp cloth. For gods sake, don't kill him, we have an appointment later.'

As she sauntered out of the room, Sherlock righted himself and looked John up and down.

He hadn't slept last night, he had been seeing that awful counsellor again, and his limp had made a brief appearance.

'I'm sorry John. It was the only way.'

'You could have told me sooner.' The older man chuckled. 'I've been going out of my bloody mind because of you.'

'You didn't have to hit me quite that hard.' Sherlock flexed his jaw.

'I avoided your nose, you're fine.'

They both laughed at the memory of their first encounter with The Woman.

'You do realise we can't go back to how we were before, at least not yet, don't you?'

'Why not?'

Sherlock exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.

'I'm dead, John. So is Irene. We have to lie and pull strings to even book a doctor's appointment. Thank god we haven't needed to go to hospital quickly.'

'Give it a few months eh?' She winked at Sherlock, coming back into the room and applying a damp cloth to Sherlock's face.

'That's cold, Irene.'

'Well deduced, Sherlock darling. It's meant to be.' John laughed at the sight of them, so domestic and yet, the most unusual couple on the planet.

The late, great, Sherlock Holmes, and his dead ex dominatrix lover, Irene Adler.

'Give what a few months?' Sherlock visibly jolted.

'Needing a hospital appointment. You know what this one's like when he's bored. Hell.'

'No, that's not what you meant.'

She smirked a little. Sherlock had taught him well.

'No, it's not. But seeing as you're doing well already Johnnie, why don't you carry on deducing? You'll get there in the end.'

She dabbed some more at Sherlock's cheek. He shot her a warning look. A 'don't bloody start Irene, you'll kill the man' look.

'Well, you two are obviously together, as a couple.'

'John, please don't waste time stating the obvious. The sooner you figure it out, the better.'

'Don't speak to me like that Sherlock, you're not off the hook yet.'

'Apologies.' Sherlock wrapped his arms around Irene, cradling her slightly.

'You've obviously been sleeping together, I mean look at the two of you. Smitten like teenagers. And you're living together, though maybe not out of choice.'

Irene snorted. 'Sherlock darling, he'll give you a run for your money one day.'

'Is that before or after you do?'

'Hang on...you...in my flat...you...Sherlock, you dog.' John pointed one finger at Sherlock and tutted sarcastically.

'My god, I do believe he's got it!' whispered Irene, in mock surprise.

'You're married! You got married! That's why you said...that you knew what it was like...'

'And by some horrendous twist of fate, he's off the mark by miles.' Sherlock mumbled.

'I'm wrong?' John tilted his head to the side.

Irene laughed and nodded.

'John, Irene's pregnant.'

He blanched.

'Is he dead?'

'John? Can you hear me? Are you alright?'

The ex military doctor grinned.

'I knew you'd get bored.'


	7. Chapter 6

Something Beautiful- Six

Irene was upstairs getting changed, and Sherlock was getting John back up to speed.

'I just can't quite believe it. You're telling me, that you were alive the entire time, and that Molly switched the bodies at the last minute? How did you stop your pulse?'

'Ball under the arm, deep breathing, simple theories really. I honestly thought you would figure it out. I left you enough clues.'

John laughed.

'I'm not quite you, Sherlock. Things aren't obvious. Emotions cloud my vision most of the time, you know that.' Sherlock smiled and shrugged. 'And speaking of emotions, how are you coping, dad?'

'Coping with what? Impending fatherhood, or the fact that Irene is the one carrying said child?'

Sherlock wrung his hands and laughed nervously.

'Sounds like you're nervous about both. How far along is she?'

'About three months. We're off to the doctor this afternoon, then we'll be sure. We didn't plan this John. I never planned on the whole, settling down with a baby thing that people do. '

John patted his younger friend's shoulder, smiling.

'It'll be fine Sherlock. It'll all be fine. You've got Irene.'

'I know that John, but I'm hardly the fatherly type, am I?' He grinned, and wiped his hand across his mouth. '_Come and help Daddy with the dangerous chemicals! Put down Mummy's special whip, you don't know where it's been!'_

John couldn't help laughing at the voice Sherlock put on.

'You'll be fine at it. Just think of it as one big experiment.'

'You're a good friend John. I don't know what I'd do without you.'

'Jump off of a building?'

The two men laughed weakly, though they were both still hurting, physically, and emotionally, respectively.

'Sherlock, are you changing, or not?'

John jumped out of his skin. The voice he heard was Irene Adler, but it came from a blonde haired, blue eyed woman in the doorway.

'Ah! What in god's name?'

Irene pursed her lips.

'You didn't honestly believe I was going into a doctor's office as 'Irene' did you?' She turned to Sherlock. 'Sherlock! Go and get changed!'

'Do I really have to wear...'

'YES.'

Her voice grew stern. Sherlock swiftly exited the room, and padded up the wooden stairs.

John coughed a little, hiding his amusement at the whole situation.

'Thats a very...conservative look for you, Irene...'

She laughed. He was right. She wore a floor length blue skirt, a yellow flowing shirt, and flat brown shoes. Her blonde wig was pinned back off of her face, and she wore a wedding band on her left hand.

'Playing the part Doctor Watson. Sherlock is revisiting a familiar disguise, and I need to match.'

'Familiar?'

'You'll see.' She smirked and twirled.

'Can't believe you didn't realise. Call yourself a doctor...'

'You weren't exactly being obvious...'

The door opened slowly, and John exploded with laughter when he saw the consulting detective.

'Irene, is this really necessary?'

Irene stroked his face tenderly, smiling.

'Absolutely. Are you wearing your ring?'

'Do I have to?'

'Yes. Now let me straighten your dog collar.'

Sherlock clenched his hands into tight fists as Irene adjusted his dog collar accordingly.

'Oh, stop sniggering John.'

'I'm sorry Sherlock. You look...heavenly.'

'If you value your life, you'll shut up.'

'What are you going to do vicar, hit me with a Bible?'

'Thats it.'

Sherlock nearly lunged across the sofa for John, and soon found himself in a half nelson.

'Don't you bloody dare, Sherlock Holmes. You can kill him later. Go get a taxi.'

As the consulting detective left the room, John chuckled and scribbled something on a spare business card he found lying around.

'Give this to him, would you Irene?'

'Of course. See you later John.'

With a smirk and a swish of her skirt, she disappeared.

* * *

><p>'John wants you to have this.'<p>

Sherlock studied the note carefully, and laughing put it in his pocket.

It read:

_Once a dominatrix, always a dominatrix, eh?_


	8. Chapter 7

Something Beautiful- Seven

He watched as she flawlessly blagged her way through a conversation with another expectant couple. She never let the veil of secrecy slip, not one part of the character dropped from her mannerisms. And yet, there were some elements of truth in their disguise. Like she always said.

'I know exactly what you mean! Telling them is the worst part, wouldn't you say? Even though we'd been trying, I still wasn't sure if he'd be as thrilled as I was!'

'Yes, I know that feeling. You work up the courage to tell them, and then, there's nothing to be worried about!'

The women giggled loudly, and Irene squeezed Sherlock's hand gently.

'Sorry about this one, he's usually so talkative. Can't stop him during a sermon, he's the absolute life of the party then. Isn't that right darling?'

'Yes, that's true. I'm a riot among the pews. I guess I'm just nervous today honey, that's all. First scan and all that jazz.'

He didn't like calling her 'honey'. It felt unnatural and almost sickening.

'So, Mary, you still haven't told us how you and Stephen met! I'm intrigued to know!'

This woman was really annoying Irene. She was infuriatingly cheery. And because Irene was pretending to be cheery and plain, they got on like a house on fire.

'Oh, its a long story. Horrendously long.'

'We have time! Oh honestly, I really want to know!'

'Stephen tells it better, it all sounds so silly from a girly perspective.'

Irene made a mental note to reassert her female dominance over Sherlock later.

'Do I?' Irene shot him a look. 'Oh, well, if I must!' He threw his hands up in mock protest.

'Don't be silly. He loves the sound of his own voice really.'

'I do. It's true. Why I became a vicar.' Sherlock laughed heartily for effect. 'We met four summers ago, at the after party for a wedding I had performed, and we immediately clicked. You know what its like, you meet someone, and all of a sudden, you've spent three hours just talking to each other. We danced for a bit as well, which I don't normally do, but she brings out the best in me, so, what can I say? Anyway, before the end of the wedding, I was called away to an emergency in the parish, elderly lady on her death bed, very sad. So obviously, I went, and it was only afterwards did I realise that I had no way of contacting this amazing woman again. I never stopped thinking about her, and one day, two years later, when I was in London for a conference, we got into the same lift at a hotel. And the rest, is history. We got married four months later. '

He smiled at Irene and she placed a chaste kiss to his lips.

'That's beautiful! I've never heard such a lovely story! Plucked right out of a movie!'

A shrill voice echoed through the empty waiting room.

'Mr and Mrs Armes! Doctor Evans will see you now!'

'Ooh, that's us!' The couple stood and the woman hugged Irene. 'All the best!'

'To you too!' Irene called after them, and then, when they were out of earshot, 'Do you think they bought it?'

'Of course. I do tell it better, don't I?'

She slapped his arm lightly.

'Are you really nervous darling?'

Sherlock studied her eyes carefully.

'Truthfully? A little. You?'

'Scared witless. But if we can die and still have a baby, I'm sure we can do anything.'

Sherlock smirked and laughed weakly.

'We can get through this. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you.'

Irene pulled him to her, by his collar, and pressed her lips to his roughly. He savoured her, the way she felt, so close to him.

'Sherlock darling, that dog collar holds such great memories.'

'What, you straddling me, naked, with it between your teeth?'

She smirked.

'Exactly. Care for a re-enactment later?'

'You're such a tease.'

'I'd love to pretend its hormones making me like this...'

'You can't. I notice everything, remember?'

He grinned at her. He barely heard the shrill announcement above the pounding in his ears.

'Not quite everything...' She whispered softly, pointing to the electric screen where their aliases flashed underneath the name, 'Dr Watson'.

'Tell me you're joking.'

She just smiled and dragged him to his feet.

'Now, that would be playing fair.' She smiled. 'And I'm not playing anymore.'


	9. Chapter 8

Something Beautiful- Eight

'So, Mr and Mrs Goodchild, I understand this is your...' Doctor John Watson looked up from his computer and closed his eyes in realisation. 'Of course its you. Who else would corrupt the office staff into booking an antenatal appointment with an ex military doctor?'

'Doctor Watson! I don't know what you're talking about!' She smirked and winked at him.

'Darling, please stop flirting with our new doctor and lets get on.'

'I cannot bloody believe you two. Is this how you were going to tell me?'

Irene smirked at Sherlock and pulled herself up onto the examination bed.

'Now Johnny, that would be telling. Now do be a dear and make sure our baby is okay. It is your job after all.'

John grimaced and put on his rubber gloves.

'I think I preferred living in complete devastation and despair.'

* * *

><p>It was almost three hours after Sherlock and Irene had hurried away, ultrasound picture in hand, and John was stood outside the surgery in the rain, awaiting his lift.<p>

'Doctor Watson, a word, if you please?'

John smiled.

'Does 'hello' never occur to you Mycroft?'

The older man furrowed his brow.

'I find it unnecessary. Nevertheless, I need to talk to you.'

'Go ahead.'

John dismissively waved his hand. Mycroft often visited him at the surgery to 'chat'.

'Irene Adler has been spotted in London. Has she made contact with you?'

John exhaled loudly.

'Isn't she definitely dead?'

'It appears not. I take it she hasn't made contact?'

John smiled and shifted his standing position.

'Why on earth would she?'

'Fair point.'

Mycroft forced a smile and moved to walk away.

'It's nice you're finally moving on. You look so much happier now, John.'

The doctor chuckled into his hand and waved to the elder Holmes brother.

'You have no idea...'

* * *

><p>Irene studied the grainy picture intently.<p>

'It looks like you.'

Sherlock sighed and glanced at the picture in her hand.

'Irene, its a blob.'

She smiled and kissed him gently on the forehead.

'Yes, but it's a lanky, intelligent blob, and it is also incredibly handsome.'

Sherlock pulled her in closer, until she was curled on his lap, her head in the hollow of his neck. He had never felt so content.

'And it, is our baby.'

He grinned and twined his fingers with hers. He was going to be a father.

'So it is. Or the milkman has an awful lot of explaining to do.'


	10. Chapter 9

Something Beautiful- Nine

A few weeks after their first scan, when Irene was about 5 months along, Sherlock had a nightmare.

He flailed and shouted, so much so that it woke his sleeping lover, and when she realised what was happening, she carefully propped herself up against the headrest, before stroking his hair gently.

'Ssh darling, it's alright. I'm here.'

His eyes flew open, his breathing ragged and shallow.

'Irene!'

'I'm here darling.'

He sat upright and began examining her with his eyes.

'Irene, are you alright? Please tell me you're alright...'

She half laughed in wonder.

'I'm fine Sherlock. Absolutely fine. Are you alright?'

His eyes darted back and forth, and he mouthed the word 'Moriarty'.

'Oh bloody hell. The baby. Irene, is the baby alright?'

She placed her small hands on his pale, bare, shoulders.

'Darling, the baby is fine.' She gasped and her hand flew to her stomach, as if the unborn infant had responded to its mention. 'In fact...'

She grabbed his hand, and placed firmly it over a spot on her protruding stomach, her own over it.

'Can you feel that?'

'I can.'

His voice was barely a whisper, as his eyes met hers, twinkling with some strange emotion, a mixture of love and astonishment.

She smiled and let out a puff of laughter.

'I think its saying 'Hello'. And also, 'Stop worrying Dad, I'm fine'. Don't you?'

He grinned, and pulled his hand away from hers.

'Can I...?'

'Do you really need to ask?'

He grinned again, running his hand gently over her bump.

'Hello baby. I...it's Daddy here.' His voice trembled a little, an odd concoction of fear and excitement. 'I'm sorry for the rude awakening. It won't happen again. I promise.'

He pressed a light kiss to her stomach, and clasped her hand in his, his eyes wide and sparkling in the low light from the outside street lights.

Irene kissed his forehead and beamed at his unusual display of uncensored affection.

'Oh darling. You really are getting quite sentimental...are you well?'

He gave an amused look and nodded. She shuffled herself back into a lying position, and he lay beside her, allowing her to rest her head against his sharp collarbone.

'You're not funny.'

She smirked and snuggled up to his chest.

'Oh, but darling, I am.' He raised his eyebrows and looked down at her. 'Do I need to use the persuasion whip?'

Sherlock laughed.

'I've hidden it.'

'In the boiler cabinet, under the hot pipes.'

Sherlock exhaled loudly.

'You really are giving me a run for my money...'


	11. Chapter 10

Something Beautiful- Ten

He was really just another Westwood suit in London. People brushed past, unaware of who he was, what he was capable of. Silly, ridiculous people, with emotions, he could burn them all in a second.

It was enough to make any ordinary man go insane. But as an already insane man? He thrived. Running the world, deciding someone's fate with one press of a button. Having control over millions of people at once. Just the flick of the wrist. That was all it would take. One signal, and the jogger beside him would be shot dead instantaneously.

But he was too interested in one person to bother with the rest. A person so interesting, his mind raced when she was merely mentioned. His blood boiled in his painful, heated, heart when he learned that she was still alive.

She was just so interesting. So like him. So brilliantly twisted in all the right ways.

She came to him for advice on playing the Holmes brothers. She played it just right, and pretty soon, she'd had both The Ice Man and The Virgin dancing like dolls for her.

She fascinated him. The only person who could manipulate someone better than he could. He tracked her. He could go as far as saying he was obsessed with her.

Obsessed with every part of her. He tracked and mapped her movements so meticulously that he knew exactly where she was going that dark night that Holmes had saved her. And it hurt him. His obsession was slipping away. And there was nothing he could do.

He wasn't used to being powerless. He hated it. He'd gone out that night and killed a few men to calm his raging pulse. It was how he operated.

And, then he caught her. Leaving his flat, tears in her ice blue eyes. Just days before he killed Holmes. Clever girl.

Not clever enough. She had anticipated Holmes' survival, but not his. And that was her downfall.

He knew her weakness now. Sherlock Holmes. And she was his. They were making this too easy for him.

But for now, he would wait. He wouldn't act too soon. He needed them as close as possible before he ripped them apart. Literally. He wanted to tear off her skin.

Jim Moriarty wanted to lull her into a false sense of security before he struck. Because she was his very favourite obsession.

And he didn't let his obsessions get away from him. Ever.


	12. Chapter 11

Something Beautiful- Eleven

'Sherlock,are we going to be here much longer? Your baby is giving me hell.'

Irene rubbed her back, wincing. Sherlock looked up from the work bench at St. Barts, concerned, but as soon as she glanced across at him, his eyes snapped down. He had to be very careful in public. Especially when irene was in disguise.

'So, its my baby when you're in pain, or being irritating? That's hardly fair. You're very unreasonable as a blonde.'

'You were the one who put it there.'

She smirked, adjusting her position on her stool.

'It takes two to tango Miss Adler.'

He didn't look up from his work, and his tone remained monotonous, but he grinned.

'You're only smiling because you remember exactly how I ended up like this. You sod.'

'No, I'm smiling because I'd love a repeat performance. In fact, wasn't it right here that we...'

Sherlock was cut short by Molly bustling in, with three cups of tea and some biscuits on a tray.

'Right! Here's your tea...Alexandria, was it?'

Irene nodded.

'Yes indeed.'

Molly grinned and pulled herself onto the stool beside Irene.

'And you're Sherlock's cousin?'

'I am indeed. We were close as children. That's why I know about all this.'

She waved her hands around, indicating Sherlock's faked death, and Molly smiled.

'And you're pregnant! How brilliant! How far along are you?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Irene kicked him under the desk, smiling at Molly pleasantly.

'About 6 months, but its a bit hard to call, as myself and my husband are unsure of when exactly it happened. You know how it is, passion filled nights and all...I'm sure you get that from old Casanova here...'

Molly giggled and blushed. Sherlock went red, though not out of embarrassment.

'Oh no...we're not...I...he...'

'Don't be shy, you can tell a pregnant woman. There's not much I don't know...'

'ALEX. We're leaving. NOW.

* * *

><p>Sherlock leant up against the wall of the old hospital, with his head in his hands.<p>

'Irene. Molly is one of my most trusted friends. For god's sake, show a little maturity. I get that you get a little bored, as you don't understand, but do you have to be so inappropriate?'

Irene sucked on her teeth. She'd had enough.

'I don't understand? I don't understand what, Sherlock? The bloody experiment, that, by the way, has no relevance to anything, or that you and your ditzy cadaver slapper have unresolved emotional issues, due to the fact she saved your life?'

Sherlock opened his mouth, but Irene cut him off, tears in her eyes.

'Actually, I know what I don't understand. I don't understand how the hell you can care so much for John and your experiments, and bloody Molly, but don't care at all for me, let alone our baby. Our child. It takes two to tango, Sherlock Holmes. And I'm done dancing around your friends.'

'Irene...'

He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shoved it away.

'Get off me.'

And with that, she disappeared down a side alley.


	13. Chapter 12

Something Beautiful- Twelve.

She'd been gone for hours. Sherlock had searched the whole city, utilising his homeless network, but still nothing.

There was only one place he hadn't been. 221B. It was dangerous. So very, very, dangerous. But he needed to find her. It was raining, and she was 6 months pregnant. It was a recipe for disaster.

He ran up the stairs to the flat he once shared with John, threw open the door, and...nothing. It was too much to hope for.

'Sherlock? What are you doing here? And why are you soaking wet?'

John was so shocked to see his former flatmate he nearly dropped the cup he was holding.

'Irene's missing...we had a fight, and she stormed off, and now its raining...have you seen her?'

John inhaled sharply.

'She called me earlier. Said that if I saw you, I was to tell you that she was on the Millennium Bridge...Oh god! She'll be soaked through!'

The two men locked eyes, both with equal expressions of worry and horror.

'John. We need to get a cab, and get there. If anything happens to her, or the baby...'

His voice cracked a little. John placed a hand on his shoulder.

'She'll be fine. They'll both be fine. I promise.'

* * *

><p>The cab journey seemed like hours. When it finally came to a stop, John paid the man and Sherlock ran. He ran to the bridge, his heart pounding in his chest, his mouth dry.<p>

He couldn't see her. Had she gone? Worse, had she jumped?

And he saw her. She was staring out across the water, one hand resting idly on the bulge of her stomach. She was soaked through, her black hair resting in damp curls around her face.

'Irene!'

She looked to him, and half smiled. He kept running until he was with her.

'You came then.'

'Why wouldn't I?'

It wasn't so much a question, but a statement to prove his dedication. It didn't work.

'I see you brought John.'

She scowled at the sight of the man in the woollen jumper.

'He's a doctor. Our doctor.'

'So?'

Her tone was abrasive.

'Do you really need to ask that? You're six months pregnant, and you decided to go walkabout in London in the rain. The cold could have brought on early labour...or some horrible illness...and then, I might lose you...or the baby...or both...and then I don't know what I'd do!'

'Sherlock Holmes, you impossible man...'

She whispered, before grabbing his collar and kissing him far too vigorously for a woman in her condition.

'Oh Irene, don't you know that I love you? Isn't it obvious?'

He hand a slender hand down her face, catching a droplet of water on his finger.

'Take me home Sherlock...'

He chuckled.

'That's hardly appropriate Irene.'

'Sherlock, I'm cold, wet, and pregnant. Take me home. But, if we're going down that route, I will need warming up later...'

'Don't tempt me.'

He linked an arm with hers, and helped her down the steps of the bridge to John.

'She's fine. Can you check out the baby though? Back at ours?'

John smiled at the sight of the two of them.

'Of course. I'm sure the little one is fine.'

Irene doubled over, and Sherlock had to grab her round the waist to stop her falling down.

'I swear, Sherlock Holmes, when I'm back on true form, I'm going to kill you for putting this thing inside me. Its kicking my insides to death!'


	14. Chapter 13

Something Beautiful- Thirteen.

She ran her hand silently over the expanse of her swollen stomach. The expanse that was her child. Their child.

She wondered what it would look like, who it would take after, whether it would be their only child.

Would they have more children? The bump in front of her wasn't planned, but would they plan another?

She let her imagination wander aimlessly, sat in the back of that taxi, one soggy hand entwined in her lover's, the other resting quietly atop their child. Her eyes fluttered softly closed...

_They are beautiful. A dark haired teenage boy, of about 15, smirking in a way that would make any girl swoon. A girl of about 10 with long black curls bouncing up and down excitedly, a wicked gleam in her eyes. How amazing they would be. _

_She could see Sherlock, his face aged and worn, his smirk creasing his still angular face as he swung their little girl onto his shoulders, explaining advanced science to their son. A boy so frighteningly like Sherlock in looks, and intelligence, with her seductive charms, and a personality that couldn't be credited to either parent._

_The little girl, giggly and sweet, with an innocence that surprised them both at times. She had her mother's smile though. God help the boys in a couple of years._

_And they would still be hopelessly in their weird twist on love. Married? Probably not, though if Mycroft finally got his way, who knows..._

_She tried to imagine herself in 15 years. Less forward, and with a fondness for long cardigans? As much as she hated to think that way, it would probably happen. _

_Would Sherlock wear woolly jumpers as well? Would they still know John?_

A soft voice pulled her away from her slumber.

'Irene, darling, we're here.'

* * *

><p>'Everything seems fine, as I said before. Just get some rest, and try not to stress yourself again, okay?'<p>

Irene smirked and winked at John, leaning precariously out of the door.

'I promise, Doctor Watson. Have a good evening.'

As she closed the door, he wrapped his arms around her, placing his chin on her shoulder.

'Don't you ever do that again. I don't know what I'd do if...'

She reached up and stroked his face, silencing him. She felt wetness against her palm, and realised he'd been crying.

'Don't worry yourself about it. I'm not doing that again. It was hell.'

There was a strange pause, as he pressed a kiss to her neck, and she sighed.

'Can we please keep this moment, forever and ever?'

She felt him laugh lightly into her neck, as he ran his hands down her waist to cradle her bump.

'If I could bottle it, I could. But honestly, we have so much more waiting for us.'


	15. Chapter 14

**AN: I apologise I apologise, its been too long. My life went mental, but I'm back and ready to continue! As I've been away so long, my story plan has changed a bit, but bear with me!**

**Something Beautiful:**** Chapter 14**

They hadn't spoken in days. He'd been busy on some case he'd received through John, she'd been busy getting herself a fake driving licence and passport, ready for their visit to 'Mummy' Holmes, to surprise his family at Christmas, with the news that they were both still alive.

Sherlock's family being the secretive, reclusive bunch that they were, they were bound to keep it secret, but Irene knew that passports would come in handy, just in case they didn't.

They slept in the same bed, but Sherlock was up all hours solving puzzles, and Irene had taken to short midday naps to keep her strength up. Holmes Jr, in its seventh month, was really beginning to take it out of her.

She was exhausted. Growing a tiny human was getting harder and harder. Her legs ached, her feet were swollen, and she had pretty much given up on a regular sleep pattern. It was time for bed.

She pulled her nightie over her head, tugging slightly as it reached her expansive stomach and sighed. She was getting bigger by the day.

Suddenly, hands snaked their way around her waist, ghosting over her bump, and lips met her neck.

'I've missed you.'

He sighed and pulled her in closer to his body.

'It was a hard case, made harder by the fact that you distracted me the entire time.'

'Sherlock sweetie, I didn't speak to you once. We've barely seen each other.'

'I didn't mean you physically. I meant the thought of you. It appears, Miss Adler, that I cannot get you out of my mind, no matter how hard I try.'

His voice tapered at the end, and he trailed a line of kisses down her neck.

'Are you done now?' She asked tentatively, not wanting to send him away.

'Yes, all finished. So now, I'm utterly and completely yours.' He paused, pressing his lips to the back of her head. 'How is our baby?'

'Growing and kicking its Mummy, but fine all the same.'

As if on cue, Sherlock felt the roll of either foot or forehead beneath his palm.

'Yes, I can feel it. Its fascinating. Its beautiful.'

She turned to face him, still wrapped in his arms.

'As are you. So come to bed with me, and show me how fascinatingly beautiful you are.'

He chuckled, kissing her forehead.

'Okay, okay. I'll meet you in there.'

She pecked him lightly on the lips, and slipped away.

'Oh, and Irene?'

As she reached the door, he grabbed her hand, and pulled her gently back into his arms, kissing her deeply, as if he were trying to transfer his soul to her.

'I've missed you too.'


End file.
